


P A R A N O V A K

by aubadezayn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Absent Parents, Angst, Baby!Sam, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Gen, Ghosts, God - Freeform, Hunters, Kid!Fic, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, Minor character death off-screen, Panic Attacks, Paranormal, Preteens!Destiel, School, discussion of religion, outcasts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:07:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5133884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aubadezayn/pseuds/aubadezayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has always been a sad, “not quite right” young boy, at least according to Aunt Naomi. Ever since his Father abandoned them for “God’s work”, and his Mother killed herself shortly after, Castiel has been struggling to connect to the living…and finding it too easy to connect to the dead. Milton, Castiel’s home, crawls with ghosts and lost souls - not even his own home is free of them! Seeing ghosts has always been a part of him, and he wouldn’t give up his power for anything, but it doesn’t become a problem until he meets young, troubled Dean Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one.

**Author's Note:**

> soooooooo this has been so much fun and so stressful! ups and downs during art claims, during the writing process, during the months of waiting to finally post - and yet we've made it!! we've made it here!! even after changing my story abruptly a week or so before it was due, i am happy and in love with this fic and i hope you will be too.
> 
> thank you to everyone who helped motivate me and encouraged and consoled me! special thanks to [fvckingjensen](http://fvckingjensen.tumblr.com) for being my biggest fan in the nerve-wracking weeks up to today. thank you to my other beautiful friends who beta'd the fic for me, i know i'm an inconsistent shit and that wasn't easy [_spaceboycas_](http://spaceboycas.tumblr.com) and [_havntedcastiel_](http://havntedcastiel.tumblr.com)
> 
> also a VERY SPECIAL thank you to the incredible [EUCLASE](http://euclase.tumblr.com) who drew incredible art pieces for me. they can be found [here](http://castielspicelatte.tumblr.com/post/132437601692/p-a-r-a-n-o-v-a-k-written-for-deancas-big-bang) and I am just blown away by how well she was able to encapture what I wanted for the fic :))
> 
> this fic is heavily inspired by the song "Norman's Walk" from Paranorman, and the movie in general! I would really suggest listening to the song during reading, it sents the tone really well. 
> 
> enjoy!

He had never been quite right.

Aunt Naomi would say that exact phrase, after a few glasses of red wine, she'd say that it was because of his parents. She'd reach over, if he was unfortunately near, and tap him on the temple hard enough to jostle him. "Trauma like that, it addles the brain. You'll never be normal, Castiel. You're just not quite right."

He would start to sniffle, as openly as only a child could. His aunt would get this wrinkly expression on her face like she'd sniffed one of Anna's poopy diapers. "Not that it's your fault, dear. Your Mother should have listened to me. Your Father was a low life from the day she met him. If it's anyone's fault you're not quite right, it's hers."

As a child, these lectures were confusing. Her voice was sweet as honey but her tone was scornful, making his skin crawl when she spoke. Her message was conflicted too, he'd never understood what she was getting at. _You're not quite right, Castiel, but that's excused because your absent parents are to blame._ No matter how soothing her voice tried to be, Castiel never forgot what his Aunt thought of him. When he got old enough to go out on his own Castiel would leave the moment the Pinot Noir came out. Avoid the temple tapping and constant reminder of his flaws.

"Gabriel is quite alright." Castiel grouched under his breath. The park he'd found solitude in was empty because of the frigid temperature and the introverted population of Milton. Not many children lived in Milton besides himself and his siblings anyway, or if they did they stayed tightly shut in their house. The swing set’s icy metal chains were clenched tight in his hands. "Normal and high functioning."

Castiel repeated Naomi's words between grit teeth and dug his feet into the leaves and snow. "Quite right in the head," He continued. He threw back his head, his nose high in the air and his voice growing mockingly shrill. "Take note, Castiel!" He cackled, the sound so reminiscent of Aunt Naomi that he shivered.

Maybe that's not what she sounds like, he conceded to himself as he swung slowly in a circle with his head dropped. Maybe his Aunt had a perfectly average voice, and it only sounded so shrill and strange to Castiel's abnormal brain.

"Take note of what?" Castiel jumped, losing his rhythm as he looked up. His hackles shot up immediately, which wasn't his fault, not many people came to the park and especially not so shortly after a fresh snow. It wasn't so much that he hated people, but his nerves were always most raw right after a lecture from Aunt Naomi.

In a turn of surprise, a boy his age stood at the end of the swing wearing a too-big leather jacket. His ears stuck out a little too much and bright freckles speckled his pale face.

"Excuse me?" Castiel's voice climbed too high and cracked embarrassingly. Gabriel had started to mock him for that too lately, now that puberty had fully started, being "not quite right" was a full body experience. Hopefully the cold would hide the embarrassed flush of his cheeks.

"You're excused." The boy grinned, like his joke was original. Castiel firmly did not smile, even though the boy's grin had the exact effect of making one want to smile. As bright as the fresh snow, the boy's smile made Castiel's lips twitch despite himself. He waited to be mocked, laughing to yourself alone in a park was not good, normal behavior - or at least, he didn't  think it was. "What are you doing out here? It's nearly below zero, you crazy or somethin'?"

The boy's smile never faltered but his accusation still struck a sore spot. _Don't let him know. Don't let the cute new boy know, even if he suspects already, that you're not quite right._ Aunt Naomi always said that first impressions were the only important impressions, and Castiel hoped he was making a good one. He wondered absently why this strange boy's opinion mattered to him.

"I could say the same about you." His voice shook nervously. "You're not even wearing mittens."

That was true - just barely visible out of the boy's pockets were hands white from cold. Aunt Naomi would have had a fit!

"Eh, I run hot. Besides I just moved in, I'm all sweaty from carrying stuff."

He wasn't really sure how one ran a temperature, nor how someone could have just moved into town. Milton was a very small town with barely a few residential streets before it turned into forest or "downtown". Downtown consisted of the Quik Shop grocery store, the gas station, the ice cream shop and the school houses. The forest included the park they were in now and the cemetery, which Castiel only visited once a year.

As far as he knew, there hadn't even been any for sale signs or empty homes recently but maybe he was wrong. "Welcome to Milton." He said, because it felt like the right thing to say. Aunt Naomi would be proud of his manners.

"Thanks. You lived here long?" The boy sat down on the swing next to Castiel. Leathery plastic creaked with new weight, but held, like it was exhausted but still happy to do its job. The boy kicked at the snow and leaves, his hiking boots old and frayed.

"Since birth." Castiel deadpanned, studying the paleness of the boy's cheeks and how the numerous freckles contrasted. His face looked like the night sky and Castiel wanted desperately, all of a sudden, to find all the constellations.

"Hah!" The boy tossed his head back in a short but sincere bark of laughter that surprised Castiel. People didn't really find him funny, not even his own brothers.

"Why are you here in Milton?" Castiel asked. He thought maybe he had phrased that rudely, and would have gone to bed without dinner if Aunt Naomi heard, but he'd intended it innocently. The boy's reaction was, therefore puzzling.

During their conversation the boy had started to swing faster, pumping his legs on each backstroke, but when Castiel spoke jean clad legs stayed straight and caught the ground. Dirt, leaves and snow ricocheted up from the ground due to the sudden motion, covering the back of the boy's legs. It took a moment of struggle between gravity and momentum before the boy came to a full stop.

That beautiful star map of a face fixated on the messy ground near their feet.

"I'm from Lawrence, Kansas."

Castiel waited patiently, such a reaction had to have more behind it.

"My Mom, she...passed away. In a fire." The boy went silent, one of his hands gripped tight and bare on the metal chain. The knuckles were white from tension and ice. "So...I think it was just too hard for my Dad to stay in Lawrence after that."

"I'm sorry." Castiel reached out unthinkingly and placed his gloved hand over the boy's. He'd never held anyone's hand before, he wished he wasn't wearing such thick mittens. They sat in compatible silence, their hands overlapping. "My Mother died too."

"How?"

Aunt Naomi had told them all to always say cancer. _"You never air your dirty laundry, Castiel. You don't just give people the truth or you're handing them your weaknesses. Lucifer and Gabriel have always known that, I hope Anna learns it easier than you."_ For the first time, Castiel was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn't want to be like his older brothers. Sure they understood how to manipulate people, how to hide their true selves away, but they were also mean. Being closed off to the world was no way to live.

"She killed herself." Castiel whispered, his voice barely reaching high enough volume to be heard. The boy's hand turned over to grip Castiel's tightly through the wool.

"That sucks, man."

They stared at each other and after a few tense heartbeats, they broke into somewhat hysterical laughter.

"I'm Dean," The boy introduced himself between lingering chuckles. Dean turned their hands so they were better positioned for a handshake and shook their hands vigorously. "Dean Winchester."

"Castiel Novak." He shook back, feeling light headed. Everyone in town knew his Mom was dead, but only his family had known how she died. It felt oddly freeing to tell someone else.

"Well Cas, if I can call you that, we should probably get home. It's going to get even colder when the sun goes down all the way." If Castiel had felt warm and pleased before, now there was a wildfire blazing in his stupid little heart. No one had ever given him a nickname before, besides some derogatory names from Gabriel.

"I thought you ran hot." Castiel joked, shoving his swing into Dean's. Dean laughed and shoved back before getting up. He shook off his jeans and blew quick, rough bursts of air onto his blue fingers.

"Come on, I'll walk you home." Dean tucked his hands into his pockets.

"Why?" Castiel asked, unsure of where they stood. He'd never had many friends and Dean had just met him. Was it too soon to invite Dean home to see his comic book collection?

"'Cause we're friends now." That was apparently Dean's final word on the matter.

"Of course, Dean." Castiel smiled wide, for the first time in a long time.

 

* * *

 

It was hours later, well into the next day already, when Castiel woke up abruptly. His bed was warm, his mind was fuzzy with sleep but for some reason he found himself looking at the ceiling instead of his eyelids. His body was ramrod straight and paralyzed with fear of something he couldn't identify. The only part of his body he could move was his eyelids as he blinked frantically trying to see into the dark.

The only light in the room was the dim light coming through the slits in the window shades. It was just enough for Castiel to recognize the eerie blue shift of light at the foot of his bed. A barely formed orb hovered above the ground bobbing back and forth in a slow, stilted pace. Around the orb was a light sheen of blue particles, unformed and confused.

In a long, relieved huff Castiel sighed and rubbed his eyes.  "Norman? I have school tomorrow." He pulled himself up to prop sleepily against the headboard. Before his eyes, the blue orb's light and particles shifted rapidly and started to form into a person. It took less time than usual and as soon as the process was done, the questions began rapid-fire.

"Do you think she misses me, Castiel? We _always_ said we'd be together forever! Surely she still thinks of me every day, right? Right, Castiel!?" Norman's voice shook so violently the room began to shake with it.

"Calm down, Norman! You'll wake Aunt Naomi!" Castiel rolled his eyes at Norman's anguished wail, but nodded soothingly anyway.

"She doesn't love me anymore! I'm sure of it, Castiel! She's forgotten me, she barely even remembers I ever existed!" Castiel rolled over, ignoring Norman long enough to flick the switch on his lava lamp. The green light slowly came on and the lava started moving sluggishly.

For as long as Castiel had slept in the attic bedroom, Norman had visited every night. As nervous and love-struck as the day he died, Norman was a high-strung melodramatic fifteen year old boy 50 years post-mortem. No matter how many times Castiel reassured the spirit that his girlfriend hadn't forgotten him, over a little bit of time the nervousness and anxiety would come back. "I'm sure she still thinks of you frequently, Norman. I've told you before."

"But what if she's forgotten me? She's moved on, hasn't she? What if he's completely replaced me? What if when she hears the name Norman she thinks of Norman Bates instead of me!?" Norman wailed again, falling face first onto the bed and going straight through it.

"Stop it, Norman. You know she hasn't forgotten you. I showed you that she still wears the locket, would she do that if she didn't love you?" Castiel stared into the lava lamp, remembering the color of Dean's eyes. Norman was crying underneath his bed so Castiel shook himself away from thoughts of Dean and sighed.

"Come on, Norman. Get up here." Norman wasn't the only spirit in the house, by far, but he was the loudest. His displeasure with being dead had been Castiel's lullaby since he was a very young child, and that hadn't changed.

"I'm sorry to wake you, I'll just go sit in the dark living room and wait for death, oh wait-"

"Okay okay, sit down. Let's get this over with." Norman grinned, pleased that his guilt trip had been so effective. He crawled up onto Cas' bed, right next to him leaning against the headboard. It irritated Castiel to no end to lose to a ghost but he'd never get back to sleep tonight if he didn't do this for Norman. He crawled out of bed in his flannel pajamas and hissed when his feet made contact with the cold hardwood floors, instead of his warm, fuzzy slippers.

On Norman's barely corporeal feet rested Castiel's slippers and Norman waved sarcastically.

"Let's get this over with _quickly_." Castiel muttered, taking the old yellowed yearbook photo out of his tarot card. Norman exactly as he was now stood next to a young, beautiful woman in the yearbook photo for "Cutest Couple", 1961. The woman had frizzy red hair and glasses but her smile was bright and her hold on Norman was tight and loving.

He gathered the sage candle he'd bought with his allowance and the lighter he'd stolen from Lucifer. He put the supplies down on the bedside table and then reached under the bed for the monopoly box he always used for connections.

"Over there!" Castiel pointed sharply to the other end of the bed and Norman shuffled there sheepishly. The candle and the photo were placed side by side on top of the game box between him and Norman. Carefully, with ease that came from frequent practice, Castiel flicked the lighter starter and leaned the flame over the candle wick.

Thick sage scent immediately began to fill the room and hopefully Naomi would keep up her streak and not smell it. Castiel crossed his fingers and prayed that everyone would stay fast asleep. Slowly with great precision, Castiel dipped his finger into the candle wax.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Norman asked, for the 500th time.

"No." Castiel answered patiently, watching as the sage dried on his finger tip. He placed it onto the photo when it was fully dried and grabbed Norman's hand with the other. The ghost's hand was too smooth and too cold to be human but they'd done this enough times that it no longer turned Castiel's stomach.

He closed his eyes and drew in as deep of a breath as his diaphragm would allow. The air pressure in the room seemed to increase as he sucked air into his body, the whole room flattening down to the grip of Norman's hand. The connection spread through their spirits and through the universe like a wave on the ocean. It crashed over Castiel in a pure rush of power.

In that moment, fourteen year old Castiel cradled the universe in his soul.

"Oh." Castiel's breath was punched out of his chest, as tendrils of his power slithered into the other worlds. He felt the literal darkness in the room. He felt all the electricity moving and zapping around the house. More than anything, he felt the beating, pulsating flashes of Earth's power as it passed through him.

The power, oh the power, shook his veins with the intensity and made his eyes roll back so far into his head he could only see bursts of color.

The connection between Castiel and the Earth stretched and thickened like fast growing branches. His heart seemed to beat 1000 times per minute and stop entirely. He could feel the dim flicker of Martha, that plush aging pink aura he'd felt a 100 times before.

On the other hand, literally, Castiel felt the sinking dread that was Norman's decaying soul. 50 years of lingering on Earth left Norman's soul a somber, grey chill that made all of Castiel's bones ache in time with his heartbeat. As the intensity of beginning a connection died out, Castiel vaguely heard Norman's voice weaving vivid tales of Martha's beauty and her vibrant smile and her joyous laughter.

Castiel focused on the photo and on the bright vivacious light of Martha's life instead of on Norman or his own physical state. Connections were easy to begin, and his first had been an accident, but they were unruly to control. With so much raw power and energy flowing through a small vessel, sometimes it could be hard to funnel it in the right direction.

Slowly, with remarkable clarity, Castiel's inner eye opened in Martha's living room. On the West Coast of the United States, several hours behind them Martha sat cozy in an armchair knitting and watching The Late Show. Her aura was like a plate of fresh baked, warm cookies and Castiel tried to push as much of the good vibes towards Norman as he could.

"She's happy," Norman gushed, his voice watery with happy tears.  Castiel held his focus on a tight leash but nodded. Usually all it took was a glimpse of her to ease Norman's nerves; it never seemed to matter that the red hair was now grey and that the smile on her face was due to the snoring old man in the adjacent armchair. "Oh thank you, Castiel! Thank you!"

Castiel began to ease out of the connection, centering himself back in his room. He imagined the physical surroundings to ground himself and with tremendous effort, the connection slammed shut. Castiel gasped as soon as it shut, his back arching sharply. He collapsed back onto the headboard, panting wetly. "Oh my God." Goose bumps were spread all over his arms.

"Norman blow out the candle, please." Castiel laid down, his eyes fluttering shut with sudden exhaustion. "Clean up." He stayed awake just long enough to see the flame abruptly puff out and then collapsed into oblivion.


	2. two.

"Wake up Cassy!" Gabriel's sing song voice shouted into Castiel's ear, startling him from sleep. Gabriel's heavy body was full pressed on top of him, crushing Castiel into the bed and cutting off his air.

"Get off." Castiel fussed, rocking back and forth to try to throw Gabe off. "Leave me 'lone." After the connection last night, Castiel's whole body ached like he was elderly. Without proper sleep, opening up like that left him hurting for days.

"So should I tell the boy at the door to get lost?" Gabriel was thrown off the bed in Castiel's haste to get up, and he fell to the floor laughing and holding his stomach. "Cassy got a crush or something? He know you're the kid from the Sixth Sense?"

When Castiel was seven years old he saw his first spirit. Their cat Galactus had died the night before and by morning he was purring back in Castiel's arms again. Too young to understand death properly Castiel told Aunt Naomi that Galactus was hungry, and that was one part of his past he regretted the most.

_"What on Earth do you mean, Castiel? Galactus is gone, he went to God yesterday." Aunt Naomi turned to glare at Gabriel and Lucifer, eating breakfast at the kitchen island. "Didn't you explain it to him?" They nodded, offended by her accusations and blaming Castiel._

_Gabriel and Lucifer had explained in their own way. They'd talked over each other mostly, and alternated between frou-frou God and Heaven explanations and arguments about where Galactus went in the afterlife. Lucifer said Galactus went to Hell because he couldn't go up the stairs without getting scratched by the ornery cat. Gabriel spent at least ten minutes deciding whether or not he would have been in Purgatory, Limbo or some other pet-oriented area of the afterlife._

_"But he's right here, Nomi!" Little Castiel had stomped his foot and shouted, mispronouncing his Aunt's name in his squeaky toddler voice. He cringed now remembering it but at that innocent, wide-eyed time in his life... he'd raised his "empty" arms to Aunt Naomi. To him, Galactus was there meowing for food out of habit, but to the rest of the room his tiny arms cradled only air._

_From there on, in Aunt Naomi's eyes Castiel was always "not quite right"._

Back in the present, Castiel was still not right, but he was also late.

"Get out, Gabriel." Castiel ordered, hurrying to get dressed. Gabe went, laughing all the way before stopping at the door frame with a mock-serious expression on his face.

"Be quick. Boys don't like to be kept waiting, Cassandra." His brother's face split into a big Cheshire grin and he ducked out the door laughing when Castiel threw a textbook at him. Gabriel's laughter could be heard all the way down the stairs.

Terrified of what Gabriel might have said to Dean, or even worse what Aunt Naomi might say, Castiel got dressed at lightning speed. Stuffing his English textbook into his backpack violently, he firmly closed the bedroom door and dashed down the stairs. When he got there, his stomach dropped.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed, happy to see him. Next to Dean, looking positively livid at being interrupted, was Aunt Naomi in her slate grey work suit.

"Castiel." Aunt Naomi's greeting was warm compared to what they were without guests around, but it had to sound chilly to Dean anyway. Dean's eyebrows raised dubiously but his gaze never left Castiel's. "Were you ever getting up this morning? Or were you just going to be late to school?"

"I'm up now." Castiel responded in similar tone, glaring at his Aunt for trying to scold him in front of his friend. School wouldn't start for almost two hours and they lived about ten minutes away from the middle school. Castiel could have gotten up an hour later and still gotten there early. "Come on Dean."

Thankfully Aunt Naomi conceded to let them go without a fight, though Gabriel made humiliating kissy motions at them from the kitchen. "Your brother?" Dean asked, as Gabriel mimicked intense kissing.

"Yes, sadly. Ignore him, he was dropped frequently as a child." Castiel could feel the burn of embarrassment on his face but tried to ignore it in favor of getting dressed faster. If it were summer he could have been out the door before Gabriel even saw them, but with snow on every horizon it took forever. Finally they were able to step outside, clad in gloves, scarves and hats. Dean had black leather gloves on that looked too big for him, but at least he wouldn't get frost bite now.

The air seemed to stab every pore on Castiel's exposed skin, the sharp blast of winter air shocking his system awake. The wind blew so hard that each step forward was a battle.

"It's fine, I'm a big brother too. We do stupid stuff." Dean waved a hand in the air to physically brush away any awkwardness and shrugged. "When Sammy's old enough, I'll probably do the same thing to him."

"Sammy? You have a younger brother?"

"Yep, he's a lot younger than me. He's less than a year old." Dean held his hands up to demonstrate his brother's size. "He poops a lot."

"That must be hard...without your Mom." Castiel didn't mean to damper their morning, but seeing the dead had the effect of lowering his inhibitions about it. His Mother was dead, that was mostly easy for him to accept with after so long but he had noticed that Dean had said his Mother "passed away". The death was still fresh too, and Dean had many more years with his Mother than Castiel did. He made a mental note to be more cautious with conversation, and try to keep death to a minimum.

"It is." Dean didn't say anything else, his voice far too stony for his age. Castiel deeply regretted bringing it up but he didn't have the social skills to remedy it. They walked in silence before Dean cracked a joke.

"This place is empty, man. Is it just 'cause it's early or...it was pretty empty yesterday too?" Dean looked around, scanning the area around them like that would make more people appear. Castiel nodded in agreement. Milton had more spirits than alive people, and it was hard not to say hello to each one they passed, as he might have done if he was alone.

"Milton isn't a very friendly town, I know. I don't think I've even met half the people who live here." Castiel shrugged. "Makes it a bit easier, I guess. My Aunt Naomi doesn't really like people either."

"She's a piece of work, Cas."

"Believe me, I know."

Dean grinned, burrowing into his scarf. Freckled cheeks and the tip of his nose were bright red from the cold, but his eyes were bright. Castiel smiled back and this time they lapsed into comfortable silence as they trudged through the snow and wind to school.

"Hello, Castiel!" Old Mrs. Catterwall called from her yellow house's front stoop. She rocked back and forth gently like she would have if she still had her rocking chair, but three years post-mortem left her house and rocking chair in the hands of different owners. Castiel had stood with her on the sidewalk the day they carried it all away, in silent solidarity. She'd sobbed when they'd carried the creaky chair away to donations, but she'd adjusted quicker than some.

Her papery, delicate cheeks wrinkled into a hurt frown when he didn't reply with his usual, openly vocal greeting and wave. Castiel tried to convey his urgency by pointing at Dean underhandedly and smiling. She seemed to understand and waved him off, rocking calmly. This same encounter occurred the entire walk, as he and Dean passed spirit after spirit.

Mr. Chancell, the former ice cream shop owner who got hit by a car by Mrs. Catterwall's house. Young Casey Walker building small snowmen in her front lawn. General Lancaster who lingered in  Milton on his huge army stallion. The too-young couple Bradley and Shayanna, who sat on the front stoop of his home and held hands dusk till dawn. Even grouchy but beautiful Rosalina Diaz was surprised not to receive a greeting.

Some of them were missing though, faces he'd saw every day suddenly gone. He hoped that they had passed onto Heaven, or that they'd just decided to rest today.  He hated to think that some of them might just _expire_ , their time on Earth truly over.

He'd never realized exactly how many spirits he'd made the acquaintance of until he couldn't speak to them, but he wished he could share them with Dean. Bullet wounds, sword impaling and jaundice aside, each spirit contained an amazing story and even more spectacular soul, which he'd been lucky enough to see.

"So, where's your Dad?" Castiel startled at the question. Dean watched him, waiting for his reaction, and he sighed.

"He left when I was seven, right before my Mom..." Dean nodded solemnly. She had killed herself because of Dad's departure, or at least that's what Gabriel thought. She didn't leave any note or explanation behind. "Aunt Naomi and my siblings are all I have."

"I'm sorry, Cas." Dean paused, deliberating on something. He glanced left, then right, then repeated that again before finally reaching out. His hand wrapped tightly around Cas'. They smiled at each other, each boy's young heart growing tight with new emotion, and they didn't let go until they got to school.

-  -  -

Castiel couldn't focus for the life of him.

Ms. Jenkins, his 90 year old English teacher, was going on and on about Mark Twain and American classics but all he could hear was the excited light of Dean's voice talking about Lawrence. They'd gotten to school so early that the janitor was the only person in and they were able to find a quiet corner and sit down together. From hometown appreciation to superheroes to their siblings, Dean and Castiel never had a silent moment.

If they did, it was comfortable and spent mulling over the confusing warmth of holding hands. They'd taken off their gloves when they got inside and Dean's hands were warm. His hands were as goofy big as his ears but they seemed to fit Castiel's perfectly.

They didn't talk about the fact that they were both boys.

Aunt Naomi took them to church every Sunday, and as Milton was a small, rural town the preaching was not always as liberal as they should be. Lucifer hated going to church, and Castiel had saw him sneaking off with the older altar servers before. Gabriel used church as a basis for his own moral code, which he based off his own philosophies more than the preacher's sermons, but he played a pristine churchgoer for Aunt Naomi.

Castiel was just thankful he'd never been forced into being an altar boy or a bigger part of the church. His Aunt thought he was too abnormal for church activity, probably thinking that his connection to the dead was the devil's work. If she only knew how close to the Earth, to God, Castiel felt when he reached into the afterlife...she'd eat her words.

The most tragic moment came when the school started to fill up and they had to separate. Dean took his hand back first but frowned apologetically. They kept talking but each passing moment was laced with tension about the upcoming split.

_"Let me see your schedule," Dean had asked the moment they'd sat down. Castiel handed it to him, after pulling it crumpled from the bottom of his backpack. Their entire schedule seemed to be one block ahead of each other. Castiel had Math first but Dean had it second, Dean had Biology fourth but Castiel had it third - the entire schedule read like that other than lunch. They didn't even have generic eighth grade art together, which honestly surprised Castiel._

_Maybe he could speak to Louis in guidance. He'd died of a heart attack a few years ago abruptly in the middle of the school day and he still made more schedule changes than the live counselors._

_"I guess I'll see you at lunch then..." Dean kicked his feet out to lay straight then brought them back to his chest, shuffling on the floor uncomfortably. Dean's expression was guarded and Castiel wasn't sure what to say to make it better other than to squeeze his hand tightly._

Now they stood up, wiping off their jeans, as the bell rang. "So, lunch?" Dean tossed the question casually, trying to look nonchalant but failing by glancing at Castiel shyly from under his eyelashes.  Dean's expression was strangely wide open and vulnerable, and something tight and anxious unfurled in Castiel. Dean's eyes were the same green as sage, and had a similar relaxing effect, just looking at them made his heart beat faster and slower at the same time.

"Of course, Dean." Castiel had smiled. They'd separated to go their own way, but Castiel wished they could have stayed together nonetheless.

Back in the present, shaking out of the memory, Castiel yawned and looked out the window. Only thirty more boring minutes till he got to see Dean again (and got to forget everything about Mark Twain).  As soon as Ms. Jenkins turned off the lights to play Huckleberry Finn, Castiel fell asleep.

Or so he assumed as he was suddenly overcome with darkness. It seemed to surround him like a cloud, blocking out the rest of the class. The world seemed to slow down, so that Huckleberry Finn's speech was slurred and every movement around Castiel was backwards. Then he saw her. Swinging back and forth gently just outside the window was his Mother.

Her neck was broken and her eyes were wide and blank. The rope noose around her neck had rubbed the skin raw and bloody. He froze, his blood turning to ice. This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. His mother died at home, she couldn't be here not at school. It's just a nightmare, he told himself.

Just a terrible, _terrible_ dream.

He was screaming before her mouth opened.

_"Castiel..."_

 

* * *

 

Hours later...

"Let him rest, mostly. Lots of fluids and just..." The doctor's voice became a hushed whisper.

"Maybe he needs more help, Naomi. More help than you can provide." Castiel stayed on his side, facing the window and pretending not to hear. Naomi hummed in agreement.

"Come on, I'll see you out Dr. Metatron."

Castiel sighed heavily, exhaustion making him burrow under his comforter. Norman had been in earlier before Dr. Metatron arrived to apologize again about last night, but Castiel had been too tired to even reassure him. Maybe it wasn't even the connection that drained him so much, he'd been mostly fine all morning till the episode before lunch.

Seeing your dead Mother and having a fit in class could really kill a good mood.

"Castiel, you have a visitor. Make it quick." The door shut hard just as Castiel turned over. Dean stood there awkwardly, holding up a hand in a still wave.

"Hey, Cas. You okay?" Dean came closer to the bed slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal. Castiel put one hand out of the comforter to pat the pillow next to his own. Dean smiled and climbed up to lay perfectly parallel to him. The smell of motor oil and baby powder washed over Castiel presumably from Dean's jacket.

"What happened? We had a lunch date, man." Dean shoved him lightly on the shoulder, and then pat Cas gently on the same spot.

"You can _not_ laugh at me." Cas ordered, his palms sweating. While laying in the nurse's office waiting for Naomi and insisting he was fine, he'd decided that he had to tell Dean. The rest of town knew he was a freak, and after today there was no way Dean wouldn't find out. It would be much better coming from him.

"Scouts honor." Dean held up two fingers together but his expression was serious. Dean didn't seem like a Boy Scout, though.

"I saw my Mom." Castiel slid down under the blanket in shame. Dean's expression was carefully blank for so long Castiel thought maybe he hadn't been heard. Then Dean's eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened and closed in disbelief.

"I thought you said..." Dean trailed off, flopping over to stare at the ceiling. He ran a hand over his mouth.

"I did."

Galactus came climbing up onto the bed just in time and when the cat got close enough Castiel grabbed him. The meow wouldn't reach Dean and Galactus could only manifest himself for Castiel but maybe... "Put your hand out. I'd like you to meet Galactus, our cat."

Dean was still hovering between disbelief and stunned silence but he put a hand out anyway. On the ring finger was a loose silver band. Castiel took his hand and placed it where Galactus' back was then he focused on making the connection.

He'd done this once before as an experiment and it hadn't taken too much energy. Hopefully he'd be able to stay awake.

The connection wasn't as intense as it was with humans so Castiel only felt the barest minimum of grey aura and chill. Galactus came into more solid view slowly, at practically a snail's pace, and tail first. Castiel could already see him fine, but as the magic worked the particles seemed to grow and spread and combine to make a more complete image. Castiel heard Dean gasp and breathe out a stunned question but he couldn't answer and hold the connection.

When Galactus had fully formed into a shimmery, ethereal version of himself Castiel collapsed to rest his head on Dean's shoulder. "Cas, holy shit." Dean whispered, awe resonating in his young voice.

"Galactus died when I was seven, but he's never not slept in my bed. He was the first ghost I've ever seen but I see them everywhere, all the time." Castiel whispered his explanations, breathing in the scent of Dean and trying to remember it. He hoped Dean wouldn't run away, but just because he was awed didn't mean he wasn't freaked out too.

"So...you seriously saw your dead Mom today?" Dean asked finally, hesitantly like he was afraid of the answer.

"Yes, that was the first time in years." Castiel admitted, remembering briefly the horrifyingly vivid details.

"Oh my God, Cas. That's like some serious sixth sense shit!" Dean laughed hysterically, his voice cracking and bubbling in shock, as Galactus faded back to incorporeal matter.


	3. three.

"You sound just like Gabriel." Castiel muttered, peeking out from under the blankets hopefully. Shock and humor seemed typical reactions but the unease and fear could always come later. Dean's face scrunched up in disgust at the comparison.

"Ew. Me and him are too much alike." A light bulb seemed to pop into existence about Dean's head as he suddenly pointed a finger at the ceiling. Dean turned to look at him again.

"So...your family knows then." It wasn't exactly a question, but Castiel nodded anyway.

"My brothers, they don't really believe me but they like to make jokes about it. My Aunt finds it irritating and crazy mostly, and she thinks it's because of my parents." Castiel unloaded the details onto Dean like unpacking a suitcase. As each small phrase came out, the feeling of the elephant in his life became easier to hold. No longer was it just him and his ghosts against the world, Dean was here too.

"...is it?" Dean asked quietly. "Like do you _only_ see your mom...and your cat?"

Castiel shook his head. "I see them all. They're everywhere." He looked down at the fraying patchwork of his comforter, his tired mind drifting away. The ghosts had been his companions since before he could fully form memories, he could see them all in his mind as clearly as if they were with him. He had to make Dean understand. "They're not all mean, or evil. Some of them are quite nice."

"They're ghosts. Ghosts are evil, Cas." Dean's voice took on an odd steely quality, but Castiel persevered.

"In movies and stories, but you don't know them like I do. You don't see them, Dean. You can't understand." There had always been something about the spirits, something about the magic, that was so deeply ingrained in Castiel's personality. He was so young, and he was introspective enough to realize that, but with every spirit and soul he touched, their wisdom rubbed off on him. Dean feared them because he'd never known them, not like Castiel did.

"I can't understand." Dean agreed, nodding sharply. After a moment, in which Castiel sunk back under the blankets in reproach, Dean's face softened and he smiled. "But you love them, don't you? Weird, crazy, whatever - you talk about them like I talk about Sammy."

"The ghosts are more my siblings than my actual siblings are." Castiel nodded solemnly. Then he grinned. "Maybe I'm just lucky, not many people get 200 year old revolutionary war generals as older brothers."

Dean laughed, his eyes sparkling and in them Castiel saw power. In Dean there was great light, and though they were young and Castiel's admiration was still mostly pure of heart, he longed to be a part of that brightness. Dean was the opposite of the dark grey chill that Castiel had languished in for so long with his ghosts.

He was Life, and Castiel found that he loved it almost as much as the old familiar Death.

 

* * *

 

Much later, after a good long power nap, Castiel woke to a pleasantly empty room. No Gabriel, no Lucifer, no Anna and of course, as if she'd ever venture into his room willingly, no Aunt Naomi. He turned over onto his back, breathing out slowly and pressing his hands to his diaphragm.

When he'd gotten old enough to harness his power and start making connections, Norman had suggested he start meditating. A boy only couple years old than Castiel when he died, Norman had eloquently suggested "ooom" exercises with dramatic air quotes, which took him weeks to decipher as meditation. Studying the body had been better than any magic book he could find, that understanding of his physical form helping him to manifest energy from the earth easier.

He took a few minutes to breathe, slowly and steadily, before getting up. The clock on his bedside table read 9:13 which thankfully meant Anna was in bed, Aunt Naomi was headed to bed and Gabriel and Lucifer would be doing their own things. The kitchen would likely be empty, he thought as his belly grumbled angrily. He hadn't eaten anything all day with Dean coming over that morning and the fit ruining his lunch and dinner.

Castiel headed downstairs, his feet padding softly on the carpeted stairs. Anna's door was shut firmly and under the door was the soft glow of her night light. Across from hers was Aunt Naomi's which had only darkness underneath. An early night, apparently. Gabriel was lying on the couch watching an obnoxious game show but it was loud enough that Castiel could sneak by. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen.

In the fridge was plenty of food, as Aunt Naomi was mean but not neglectful. Dinner apparently hadn't left any leftovers though so Castiel just grabbed a few things to make a sandwich with and the bag of pretzels on top of the fridge. The pretzel bag crinkled loudly as he unclipped it and rolled out the top.

Norman walked through the kitchen casually, waving to Castiel before disappearing through the side door to the garden. He spent nights there usually, looking up at the moon and thinking about Martha. That was usually the source of his night anxiety, and Castiel hoped the brooding wouldn't ruin his rest again tonight.

Castiel got two pieces of bread and was just looking for a knife, to spread mustard with, when heavy footsteps stepped into the kitchen. He spun around startled but sighed in irritation.

"What is it, Lucifer?"

"Good morning to you, little brother." Lucifer sauntered over, smiling mockingly at him, and snatched the mustard from him. "Why don't you sit down? After today's exhausting activities, there's no way you should be exerting yourself like this. I'll make it."

Lucifer bumped Castiel away from the food, smiling creepily.

"Why would you care about me exerting myself?"

"Brother, little baby bro, why _wouldn't_ I? You wound me." Lucifer's smile just seemed to get pointier and pointier but Castiel sat himself down on a kitchen stool anyway.  Once Lucifer started something, there was no changing his course.

"Why do you have to be so dramatic?" Castiel grouched, crossing his arms across his chest. Lucifer didn't reply, instead piling meat and cheese onto the bread meticulously straight and precise. Gabriel's show switched to commercial in the living room and to Castiel's displeasure, his other brother decided to join them in the kitchen.

"Hey, Lucy, Cassy. What's up?" Gabriel went to the fridge and grabbed himself a soda. Gabriel offered one to him, which was so new and unexpected that Castiel declined despite the dryness in his throat.

Gabriel sat on the stool across from Castiel and peeled a piece of salami off for himself. Lucifer was still meticulously stacking meat and cheese, making sure that every corner matched every corner. "So..." Gabriel started, glancing between Lucifer and Castiel with a big grin on his face. "Castiel's got a boyfriend."

Castiel's heart stopped.

"What?!" He spluttered, choking on air. Gabriel laughed out loud and even Lucifer, through his concentration, broke into a smile.

"Hey, hey bro it's _fine._ " Gabriel drew out the final word and leaned across the counter. "You're one of us now. It's a good thing."

"One of you? And what exactly are you two?" Castiel asked, his heart beating too fast and his palms sweating. They seemed fine, of course they did, but the mocking, the teasing, the underlying judgment it all had to be there just under the surface waiting. His brothers didn't even like him normally, but they'd be okay with him liking boys? Sure!

"Men." Lucifer stated flatly, passing Castiel the sandwich on a plate. He poured pretzels onto the side and then tossed the bag to Gabriel who caught it without looking.

"Men? You're both in high school too!"

"Yep, but that's just a technicality. Manhood isn't about age, bro."

"Stop calling me bro." Castiel demanded, the word grinding on his already frayed nerves. Surely his face was bright red by now, which would make for great humiliation.

"Fine, _dude_. So...tell us about him." Gabriel's face seemed so serious and calm that Castiel almost believed he cared just to care. "If he's not up to our standards, we'll have to find you some other gay boy to crush on." That belief went tumbling to the ground fast.

"I'm not crushing on him, and he's not gay."

"You asked him that?" Lucifer asked, plopping himself on the stool next to Gabriel. "You hear that Gabriel? He's so mature now that he can read sexual orientations."

"Shut up, Lucifer." Castiel snapped, breaking a pretzel apart aggressively.

"Hey, hey. We're proud of you, it's nice to see you out of that shell a little bit." Castiel looked up in surprise, Gabriel's face reading was serious and without his usual smile. Disbelief still coursed through Cas' veins.

They had never bothered with him, they had never liked him, and he'd been the source of all their mercilious teasing and bullying since he was born. Surely one friend couldn't have changed that?

"I'm serious, Cassy. What happened today was fucked up, and if the boy with the huge ears makes you feel better then that's a good thing to me. Right Lucy?" Gabriel turned to Lucifer, whose expression was just as grave and serious as if they were signing life insurance plans.

"Right."

"You guys don't even like me." Castiel blurted out, covering his mouth with his hand as soon as the words were out.  He'd never told his brothers how he felt before, they weren't exactly the touchy feely type of siblings. They'd inherited their inability to be nurturing or open from Aunt Naomi.

"Who says?" Lucifer asked, taking a pretzel from the bag Gabriel offered to him.

"You guys never include me, and you're always saying mean things. You never tell Aunt Naomi she's wrong when she says I'm 'not quite right'." The reasons seemed to pour out of Castiel, in a stream of upset and young emotions. Usually he had a tight leash on his emotions and was able to hold it together, but tonight with his energy raw and his third eye still filled with their Mother's corpse, he couldn't. "You guys don't even believe me when I say I see ghosts-"

"Dude, hey!" Gabriel held up a hand in front of Castiel's face to get his attention back. "First off, you are literally always at the damn park or in your room - and you're at least three years younger than us both. It's kind of hard to find similarities when you're barely a freshman."

Lucifer took over and continued, "And as for saying mean things, I've never said anything to you I wouldn't say to this fuckface next to me." Gabriel smiled encouragingly.  "If something bothers you, Castiel, you can't expect me to read your mind. _I'm not a ghost._ "

"Third, Aunt Naomi doesn't listen to anyone, and if you'd been paying attention she doesn't think me and Lucifer are the pinnacle of excellence, either. What'd she call you the other day, Lucy?"

"Satan." Lucifer deadpanned, biting into a pretzel.

"Really?" Castiel had been rather self absorbed the last couple years, and he had tried to avoid being in the house or around his family as much as possible. It wasn't unlikely that he'd missed a turn in Aunt Naomi's preference. Lucifer and Gabriel nodded together.

"And finally, we never said we didn't believe you. You think we don't feel them?"

"You feel them too!?" Castiel asked earnestly, his hands bracing against the counter. If his brothers felt them too then maybe he really wasn't alone-

"Not like you, Castiel. But it would be hard not to feel them at least a little bit, they're all over this town." Gabriel's expression was the most serious Castiel had ever seen it. "I feel Mom sometimes too."

Castiel jerked back, dropping the sandwich to the plate and scattering all of Lucifer's hard work. "No you don't."

"Don't tell me what I feel!" Gabriel ordered, his lips twisting and his face souring.

"I've never felt her, I've never seen her or heard her until today. There's no way you've felt her because _she's not here_." Castiel stood up, pushing the plate aside angrily. "She left us when she killed herself and then she couldn't even stay around as a ghost!"

"Hey, hey, Castiel. Calm down." Lucifer soothed him like a wild animal, his hands up in the arm in surrender. "Sit back down. We're just talking."

Castiel weighed the moment, looking between Lucifer, Gabriel and the chair. He could see the wavering blue light of Norman sitting outside through the kitchen window and that convinced him to sit down. If he had his brothers, his alive brothers, in his grasp why let them go?

"Maybe we should talk about something other than dead people." Lucifer suggested. "Maybe Dean?"

"I don't want to." Castiel pouted, his immature side popping up. Sure maybe Dean made his palms sweat and his heart beat faster, that didn't mean he had a crush on him. And if it did! That didn't mean he wanted to talk to his brothers about it.

"Well we want to." Gabriel snapped, his hackles still raised from their mini-fight.

"What Gabriel means is that we want you to know that Aunt Naomi might be a bible-pusher, but you're allowed to be whoever the fuck you want to be, okay?" Lucifer assured him, reaching over the table to point his finger in Castiel's humiliated face. "You like boys? Great. You like ghosts? Fine. You're _my_ brother and _my family_ can do whatever the fuck they want."

"Yeah yeah we get it, Lucy. Calm down." Gabriel pulled Lucifer back into his seat and held out his hand straight and turned to the side, like a handshake. "Point is, you freaked us out pretty bad with the scene today, so if you need us...we're here. Ghosts, guys, and guidance."

"Okay...can I eat now?"

"Sure." Lucifer answered, sweeping up Gabriel's soda and the bag of pretzels as he stood. "But don't think we won't talk about Dean soon. Come on Gabe, let's watch The Men Who Built America, I love ruthless businessmen." They both left, wandering out of the kitchen to the living room where the television volume went up slightly and the theme song of TMWBA came raging on. Castiel turned back to his sandwich and stared at the misshapen bread and toppings.

If someone had told him a year ago that he'd have that conversation with his brothers, he would have told them they were insane. Lucifer and Gabriel had always been a package duo, literally from the womb, and they'd always functioned as one. Sharing a bedroom, sharing classes, sharing a social life - Lucifer and Gabriel rarely moved without the other one, and it'd been like that for so long that Castiel had assumed there would never be a place for him.

Maybe he just had to catch up and _make_ a place for himself.

 

* * *

 

"Are you really ready to go back to school?" Dean asked the next morning as they made the freezing trek to school. He clapped his gloves together trying to create warmth, which was futile as snow was on the horizon. The temperature was just going to continue to drop and Castiel just prayed that it wouldn't start before they got to school.

"No but Aunt Naomi doesn't _believe_ in taking rest when the Lord intended us to work. Today's also her day off and she hates having us around the house." Castiel had asked her if he could stay home, and Dr. Metatron had suggested it, but she'd glared at him so fiercely, Norman had flinched.

" _Real_ piece of work, that one."

"Tell me about it." They went quiet, the only sound their heaving breathes and their boots crunching snow.

"We should skip." Dean said suddenly, looking at Cas sharply.

"What?" Castiel asked, confused.

"I mean you're not ready yet, and Mr. Alistair is going to make us run sprints in gym today - let's just not go." Dean had an excited goofy grin on his face, that only got more and more excited as they walked.

"Where would we even go? My Aunt is home remember? And the park is frozen solid." Cas retorted, his anxiety building by the idea. He'd never been very good at being normal but he'd always been a model student. His attendance was near perfect and his grades were above-average. Aunt Naomi wouldn't even know how to punish him for this.

Dean turned around to walk backwards, grinning ear to ear. He held out his gloved hand and stopped walking. "You trust me?"

For some reason, despite their very brief friendship, Castiel did. He looked at Dean's hand and at Dean's face and weighed the pros and cons. Aunt Naomi would kill him. He'd miss class. He'd be with Dean.

He put his hand in Dean's slowly and was barely surprised by the sudden tug that had them marching faster through the snow, Dean leading the way.

"Where are we going, Dean?!" Castiel shouted, laughter in his voice as Dean pulled him down the sidewalk rapidly.

"It's a surprise." Dean called back.

They marched hand in hand, panting at rapid speed, the frigid cold and their own nerves.

Eventually they got to the edge of the residential area, where Castiel had rarely gone because he knew only forest was at this end. The cemetery was on the other side of town near his house, and the school was downtown. As far as Castiel knew, with the experience of thirteen years in this town, there were no homes or buildings over here.

"Where are we going? Seriously." Castiel demanded, his stomach knotting as he realized he really didn't know Dean that well. He kind of wished he'd spoken to Gabriel or Lucifer about Dean now, maybe they would have told him not to trust strangers even if you like them.

"Hey. You said you trust me, right?"

"Yes, but you might be taking me into the woods to murder me and wear my skin."

"What if I promised that I'm not?" Dean flirted, shoving Castiel's shoulder. "Come on, live a little. Besides if I do kill you, you'll be able to bunk up with Norman."

"I regret telling you about him."

"What? You can't keep that kind of comedic gold to yourself." Dean laughed, thinking probably of the several stories Castiel had told him about Norman's anxiety attacks at night.

"Norman isn't a joke, Dean." He ordered. Despite the fact that he'd told Dean about the time Norman tried to dramatically drop through his bed and accidentally fell through to the basement, scaring himself by falling into the dark so suddenly. Which had Castiel crying tears of laughter for hours afterwards.

"Yeah, yeah." They were about a few feet away from the forest by the time Castiel realized they weren't turning. He dug in his heels but the snow made the impact a lot more subdued, so much so that Dean barely even noticed.

"Dean stop. I'm not going into the woods." Castiel pulled back hard, and Dean finally noticed as their hands came apart.

"Why not? I swear Cas I'm not gonna hurt you or anything, I would never." Dean vowed, reaching for Castiel's hand again. He was heartbroken to do it, but Castiel snatched his hand away before they could touch.

"I don't go into the woods." Castiel reiterated, planting his feet firmly on the ground and using that stability to calm himself.

"Why?"

"I just never have."

"Is there something dangerous in them? I'll protect you." Dean's smile was small but sincere and he held out his hand hesitantly, giving Castiel the chance to turn him down. "I swear, it'll be okay, Cas. I won't let you get hurt."

Castiel tried to ignore the pull of Dean's smile, of his eyes, and focus on why he never went into the woods. The ghosts were wary of what lay beyond the trees, so much that they never went there themselves. The forest was the only place where if you died, you weren't stuck. Some of the ghosts, especially the General, called it the Dead Woods because it lacked the energy of a live forest.

Eventually, Dean's hand started to drift downwards in disappointment as they stood there stuck in a tug of war.  Castiel's hand was snapping out to stop it before he even consciously made his decision, but it was too late. He was already in too deep, and whether it was the trees drawing his name or Dean holding his hand, he was going into the woods.


	4. four.

The moment they entered the canopy of trees the temperature dropped at least ten degrees. Whether the air was more hard packed here between the narrowly spaced trees or the shade chased the sun away more than the clouds, it was nearly intolerable.

Dean and Castiel huddled together as they hiked, to keep the hot air from their breathing and movement around them. Dean's hand gripped his tightly and that at least was a source of comfort in the dark, freezing limbo that the trees seemed to be. They never seemed to end, their branches stretching on forever and tangling with others, their leaves becoming huge mossy masses of green that overwhelmed whole areas.

Dean had to help Castiel over a few huge fallen trees, and he did so with confusing confidence. Dean had only been in town for two days and yet he seemed so comfortable in these woods, like he'd lived here all his life.

"Have you been here before?" Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged casually. "Of course or I wouldn't know what I'm surprising you with."

"I mean Milton. Have you been in Milton before?" Dean's face shuttered, and if there had been just a little less light Castiel might have missed the dark nervous expression that came over the boy's face. "You have, haven't you?" Castiel accused.

Dean shrugged again, though this time his shoulders were too stiff to be casual. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, Cas, I've been here before." Dean conceded through grit teeth. He tried to keep them walking but Castiel stopped, digging his heels easier into the dirt.

"Why did you lie?"

Their hands came apart quickly. "Why are you pressing this? It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal, Dean. You lied to me, that means I can't trust you." Castiel backed away, feeling cornered by the trees and the darkness and the overwhelmingly dark presence of the forest.

"I didn't lie-"

"Yes you did! 'I just moved in, I'm sweaty from carrying things'." Castiel mocked, remembering exactly how Dean had introduced himself. He'd seemed so genuine and casual at the time, but now that he knew he was lying... Betrayal was definitely a new feeling.

"I was sweaty from carrying things! I just...wasn't carrying boxes."

"What the _fuck_ does that mean?" Castiel felt his eyes getting wet, which was definitely new, and he felt overwhelmed. He felt too raw, too cold, and too vulnerable. "I want to go home. I want to go home **now** , Dean." Castiel started to walk back, wiping at his eyes with his mittens.

Dean caught him by the jacket and pulled him to a stop. "Don't touch me, please." Castiel shoved off his hand, shaking slightly inside of his jacket not because of the cold.

"Wait, wait Cas please.  Just come with me, we're almost there, I'm begging you please. Give me ten minutes and I swear I'll walk you home and leave you alone for good." Dean got close, right up in Castiel's face so that he could feel the boy's breath billowing out in clouds. "Please, Cas." Dean's eyes were bright, but the light behind them seemed different now. Where it used to be beautiful and awe-inspiring, where it was new and amazing, now they looked stressed beyond their age.

"Fine. Ten minutes." Castiel shoved away from Dean and headed back the way they were going originally. Of course he didn't know where he was going, but straight seemed like a fine bet. Dean caught up quickly but Castiel refused to even look in his direction.

They walked deeper and deeper into the woods and the further they got, the more uncomfortable Castiel became. It wasn't even that Dean had lied to him and broken his trust, it was the inherent core of him that ached. His whole body screamed to get out, run, _run_! It was hard to ignore the pulsing, constant desperation but he plunged forward anyway.

After several tense minutes, in the distance came a bright spot where the canopy of trees broke and snow had fallen. When they were nearly on top of the area, Castiel realized that there was a cabin. It was completely covered in snow, though a path had been shoveled clear to the trees and the chimney was puffing out smoke. Alongside the house was a huge row of chopped wood with two shovels leaning against it.

Around the entire house was a big red circle, with crimson lines stretching back to the house. It was covered in some places by the snow but other than that, the shape was indecipherable.

"What is this Dean?" Castiel asked, stepping over the line cautiously. On the snow, it was impossible to tell what it was but Castiel's gut (or his fear) told him it was blood. He followed the lines, trying to make some sense of the pattern but coming up short.

"It's my house." Castiel turned to find Dean hovering at the edge of the circle, pulling at his gloves awkwardly. "My home really did burn down, just not as recently as you think."

"When?"

"'Bout a year ago. It was set by a demon, coming after my Mom's soul, and it really was too hard for my Dad to stay in Lawrence, which is where I'm really from." Dean brushed over the demon part, but Castiel's mind vibrated on it.

"Demons exist too?" Of course they do. Why would ghosts be the only supernatural creatures? That didn't even make sense. Castiel was spinning in slow circles, or maybe just his head was, and he felt dizzy.

"My Dad hunts them, and other supernatural stuff-"

"Like ghosts?" Castiel's voice rattled from a very cold chest. He wished for the warm safety of home, no matter if Norman wouldn't let him sleep or if Aunt Naomi hated him. At least there he was sure.

Dean's face fell in shame but he nodded. "He's already hunted four here. I had to help him. That's what we do, we're hunters."

Castiel's chest clenched. The missing ghosts, they weren't missing they were _gone_. Dead or exiled to Hell, who knows, but they had been rushed out of their afterlife by entitled men who thought themselves gods. Castiel felt violated, like his ribs had been pried open and his heart squeezed. The good he'd once seen in Dean was covered by the blood of his friends. Ghosts or not, they _were_ his friends.

"What happens to them? What do you do to them?" Castiel's voice was harsh with accusation and as Dean took a step forward, he took one back. They moved like that twice more before Dean groaned and ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"They die, Cas! Like they're supposed to! We burn their bones or their possessions or whatever is holding them here and we set them free!" Dean shouted, defending himself ardently but Castiel would not hear reason from a liar.

"That's not your job! You are not _God._ "

"He's not real, Cas! If he was real, do you think Norman would be dead? Or that little girl you told me about? Or Ms. Catterwall!? They're all dead and stuck here because God. Is. Not. Real!" Dean shouted, throwing his backpack off and onto the snow. "Both of our Moms are stuck here because he's not real-" Dean broke off and sobbed, his face collapsing behind his hands. The boy's shoulders shook violently as sobs broke free and Castiel's guard went down enough to feel bad at Dean's pain, before he realized.

"Your Mom is stuck here too?"

Dean looked up, his green eyes were bloodshot and leaking tears down his cheeks. He nodded, apparently unable to trust his voice. "Why can't you just, do what you did to the others?" It hurt unbearably to imagine what Dean and his Father had done to the others, but it only made sense. If you unstick a ghost by burning it, why wouldn't Dean's Father be strong enough to do that to save his wife?

"That's why I needed you, Cas." Dean shook his head sadly and wiped his tears. "I'm so sorry but I knew the whole time, not that you seen everyone, but that you seen your Mom and stuff. My Dad got the tip from a psychic he knows, so we came out here to find you."

Castiel's world felt like it was shattering, but slowly. Like an egg that no matter how many times you tapped it against the counter, it wouldn't crack open. It just kept peeling little piece off, and you thought it might be frozen on the inside so you'd stick your finger on the hole and push a little and all the insides would come out. It felt like Castiel's insides, all of his blood was pooling out on the snow.

"I thought that if I befriended you, it would be easier than if my Dad just forced you to do it. Your Aunt-"

"Don't talk about my Aunt. You have no right." Castiel snapped, defending his family and defending himself. He felt wounded, and with every word that came out of Dean's mouth, the bigger the wound got.

"It started as a lie, Cas, I'll admit that but I really do like you. You're funny and you're kind, and you _love_ those freaking ghosts! You love them like they are your family!" Dean stalked forward, moving so fast that Castiel didn't have time to jump back. Dean caught his forearms in his hands and held fast, bringing Castiel close to him. "You'd do anything for family, right Cas?"

Dean's whisper brushed over Castiel's face, sending shivers down his spine.

Castiel nodded.

"I'd do anything for mine." Dean released his arms and backed off, his eyes never leaving Castiel's. "Come inside."

Castiel had no choice. He didn't know the way home. He was vulnerable. He was intrigued.

Dean picked up his backpack and started to head towards the front door, without watching to see if Castiel would follow. He did, but every step he took felt like it could just as easily be in the opposite direction. He was treading a very fine, nervous line and he prayed, above all else, that Dean didn't make him regret this.

The cabin was gloriously warm when they entered and Castiel breathed a sigh of relief. It smelt like firewood and coffee, with a hint of cigarettes. The front hall was short but packed full of shoes and jackets and...guns. Leaning against the wall where Dean hung his jacket was a shotgun and hanging from the hook next to it was a silver handgun. Castiel tried not to stare, fearing retaliation in some way, but he couldn't. He'd never seen a gun in real life before, and he'd never imagined that he'd have such a visceral response to one.

His stomach turned, imagining what that could do and remembering that some of the ghosts he knew had bullet wounds that disfigured them.

"Take off your boots." Castiel hesitated at the order, in both defiance and worry. If he had to leave, he wouldn't be able to make a very quick getaway without his shoes already one. In a fit of perhaps bad judgment, Castiel toed off his boots and trusted Dean. He'd done that once before and been lied to, but hopefully this time wouldn't backfire like the first.

Castiel also took off his jacket, scarf and gloves which had all become quickly stifling from the intense heat of the fireplace, which he could see flickering further in the cabin.

"Sammy?" Dean disappeared into the cabin, shouting for his younger brother. Castiel followed him slowly, trying to take in every detail of the cabin.

It was simple, the interior design sparse and austere. Besides the coziness of the fire, every surface seemed suspiciously blank and the entire cabin didn't feel lived in. The front hall was the most active area, which made Castiel distrust Mr. Winchester even more. "This is Sammy." Dean's voice startled Castiel out of his inspection, and he got his first glimpse of Dean's baby brother.

Older than Castiel had first thought, but still a very young child, Sam Winchester was a warm bundle in Dean's arms. He had brown hair and big brown eyes and his thumb was jammed into his mouth, while the other tiny hand clutched at Dean's henley. He looked fragile and delicate, with his cherubic ruby cheeks and his onesie covered in little puppies. Dean had one hand under his brother's head and the other cradling him from underneath, and though Castiel was in the room, he didn't feel like Dean even noticed.

It was like the whole world centered around Sam, even Castiel felt it. This baby, so small in a world filled with monsters and ghosts and death, was an innocent.

Watching Dean lightly rock his baby brother, Castiel knew he had made the right choice to trust again.

"He's cute," Castiel offered, feeling slightly uncomfortable that Dean had sidetracked them with his brother. Cute, innocent and sweet Sam Winchester was, but he could not be the reason Dean and their Father had desperately sought Castiel out.

"Yeah, he'll be a looker one day." Dean played with Sam's finger, staring down into his brother's chubby face. "Strong and smart, just like Mom." Dean rubbed his finger gently over Sam's cheek, never once looking up. Castiel wondered absently if his brothers had ever looked at him like that, or if he had ever looked at Anna like that.

"Dean...why did you bring me here?"

Dean glanced up, somewhat in surprise, and then nodded. He took Sam to the playpen by the couch and laid him down on top of a small green blanket inside. He braced a hand on the playpen's cage and then turned to Castiel, biting his lip nervously.

"The fire happened...but my Mom didn't technically die. She got burned pretty badly, spent a couple weeks in the hospital under a medically-induced coma." Dean moved to collapse onto the couch, rubbing at his face with tired hands. Castiel sat in the armchair near the couch, not trusting himself not to give in too quick and try to comfort Dean. "When she woke up though, she wasn't right. They said she was fine, said she just needed time to regain her strength. That in some time, she'd be back to normal."

"She just seemed to decline though. Her body was fine, pristine. The skin healed and she never lost weight, she never looked sick...but her organs were failing, and her brain activity was dropping every day. It was like she was perfect on the outside, but dead on the inside." Dean sighed, glancing over at Sam's playpen before looking back down at the floor.

"The doctor's were all confused, they didn't have a clue what was doing it or how to stop it. My Dad he went kind of crazy, started hunting and teaching me how to fight and use a gun. He said that the demon did it, that he had put some hex or something on her and that we needed to find it and make it reverse what it did."

"Did you find it?" Castiel asked.

"Yep." Dean popped the 'p' in Yep drily and stared pointedly at a spot past Castiel. "Just he didn't reverse it, said he hadn't even done anything to Mom. My Dad threatened him, promised to make him pay if he was lying but the demon swore up and down that he hadn't done it. Dad killed him, for starting this at all, but we were still at square one."

"Which was?" Castiel asked, getting confused as Dean seemed to talk around something.

"My Mom was perfectly healthy, but something was wrong inside. Something inside her had gone missing." Dean clarified, putting his hands together in a prayer gesture. "That's when the psychic Missouri told us that she was stuck in limbo, right around the time I started seeing her walking around the house. Not really her, but like Galactus, kind of there but not there."

Castiel knew all to well the very unrealistic quality of apparitions, and yet how familiar and corporeal they could seem.

"Missouri told us that she was stuck, because the demon had tried to take her soul and kind of 'unlatched' it from her body. Like he put the stolen goods in the truck but didn't drive away with it...so it just kind of fell out."

"Her soul?" Castiel gaped, horrified. He had touched alive and dead souls, he had spoken to lingering souls and wandering souls and upset vengeful souls, but he had never seen a soul that had slipped out of its owner.

"That's why we came to find you. She told us there was a boy that could see and connect with the dead, and that he was here in Milton. So my Dad packed us up and moved us here about a week ago. This place is so small and obnoxious that it didn't take more than a few days to find you." Dean snorted lightly, at the ease apparently.

"My Dad wanted to just march in and grab you, but Missouri didn't even tell us if you _could_ talk to Mom. I had to know, I couldn't get my hopes up." Dean's expression was the deep remorse of an adult, and it made Castiel feel small. "But you can...and I need to you help me get my Mom back."

"Dean...I don't know if I could find her soul, I've never tried something that intense before but she died, technically in Lawrence. I can only see ghosts from around here." Cas collapsed onto the couch, defeated.

"She's here, Cas. I see her every night." Dean assured him, suddenly on one knee in front of Cas. His eyes were huge and bright with desperation. "And...her body is here."

Cas recoiled, pulling away as far as he could on the couch. "What? You have her body with you? _Here?_ " His stomach twisted in disgust, bile rising up in his throat.

"No, no, it's not what you think. Remember what I told you, her body is perfectly fine!" Dean begged, his hand clenching on Cas' knobby knee aggressively. "If her body is here, and her soul is here all you have to do is direct her back in, right?"

"Dean-"

"Please, Cas." Dean's eyes were watery with unshed tears. "I need my Mom. You'd want yours back, wouldn't you? If there was even a chance..."

Cas bit his lip, looking down at Dean's hand on his knee. There wasn't anything to be done for it, he couldn't resist helping. Resigned, Cas placed his hand over Dean's and leaned closer.

"We're going to get her back, Dean. I promise."

* * *

Things are startlingly normal afterwards. Dean offers to show Castiel his mother's body, which is apparently being carefully maintained in the master bedroom, but he hastily declined the offer. Planning to reach into the Earth and pull out Mary is one thing, seeing her empty corpse itself was too much. Thankfully Dean doesn't protest, rather he ushers Castiel out the door because his Father is due back any moment.

"So...I know it's a lot to ask, Cas." Dean muttered, kicking at big piles of snow on the sidewalk as they head to Cas' house. "It's probably too much."

Cas shrugged, glancing at the willowy figure of Mr. Chamberlain laid spiked on a rake in his front yard. He'd been there for all of Castiel's life and though ghosts can freely move, he never had. "I would do it for my Mom."

"Why though?" Dean asked hesitantly, after a pause. "Your Mom killed herself, aren't you mad at her?"

"...Yes." Cas conceded, shrugging again. His blood still boiled with rage thinking about his Mother's selfishness. It sometimes was too hard to even look at Anna, who was the spitting image of the photographs hanging in Aunt Naomi's room.  Maybe he shouldn't want to save her, maybe he _couldn't_ save someone who didn't want to be saved...but in his foolish, young heart he knew he would try, given the chance.

"But I feel like...she's still here. Like she's always been here, stuck. I would do anything to set her free."


	5. five.

Things were normal for several days after that, they were more than normal, they were good. Dean and Castiel met up frequently at the park, able to sit on the ground because the snow had strangely melted and not fallen since. The strange warmth and reprieve from the snow allowed Castiel the strength to connect with the Earth, and practice manipulating it's power. They were not much closer to bringing Dean's mother back, as Castiel still had no idea how to do such a task, but he did feel stronger the more he practiced. Soon, maybe he would be strong enough for the task.

Then, one day barely a week after the discussion in the cabin, the snow slowly started to fall. They left the park immediately, knowing in their guts that something was not right.

The cold wind was blistering on their faces, and their coats just barely kept out the chill. Their denim jeans felt like paper against the wind but they trekked on determined.

Soon the snow was falling strong and covering the old ice and slush with fresh piles. Castiel's hat was wet with melted slush and his fingers, covered in mittens and shoved deep in his pockets, felt frozen down to the knuckles. Thankfully they reached Shurley St. soon enough, and out of the hazy white glare of snow and wind rose Castiel's house.

Typical and suburban, the Novak home made very little impact on the street. There were no outdoor toys or accessories, and only one car sat in the driveway - Aunt Naomi's simple, black Toyota Corolla with no stickers. The one remarkable thing about the Novak home was the barely visible blue mist pacing and flickering in the garden, that only Castiel could see.

"Norman is restless again." Castiel exclaimed, startling Dean. Norman was most active at night, and if he was out and about this early something must be terribly wrong.

"Norman? How do you know-" Castiel didn't wait for Dean to finish but took off to the house, his boots gripping the snow enough to keep him from falling in his mad dash. Behind him, he could hear Dean muttering and cursing as he tried to catch up.

"Castiel! Castiel thank God, you're back, there is something not right about that woman, I've been telling you for years, I swear to God I'm always right about these things, I've got like a fifth sense, I just knew it-"

"What the Hell is he talking about?" Dean cut Norman off, panting and bracing himself on his knees, breathe short from the short run and cold air. Norman paced frantically back and forth between the rose bushes, flickering in and out of sight. His hands wrung together nervously, but flickering out still so that fingers disappeared periodically. He continued to speak gibberish, even as Castiel moved forward to get his attention.

"I don't know. Norman, what are you talking about? What happened?" Castiel asked, dreading the answer. He also decided to just ignore that Dean could hear Norman, apparently.

"Your Aunt." Norman stated, finally stopping his pacing but still flickering nervously. Castiel's chest seized and his gaze switched rapidly to the second floor window of Aunt Naomi's room. The curtains were pulled, actually all of the window curtains were pulled. Castiel scanned the entire right side of the house and found each window tightly shut up, which was abnormal. Milton didn't exactly have to worry about prowlers or peeping toms. "She...I don't know exactly how to describe it."

"What did you see, Norman? Start from the beginning." Castiel insisted, staring up at the curtained window. Something was wrong, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

"She sent Gabriel and Lucifer off to school and had breakfast, Raisin Bran just like normal. I was just relaxing, thinking about Martha and playing with Anna." Norman liked to spin Anna's old mobile and make her stuffed animals dance, since Naomi often forgot to wind it up or play with the little girl. "That's when the whispering started." Norman's body flickered out in a wave of blue light, like a shiver.

"Whispering?" Dean asked before Castiel could. The snow seemed to move backwards, as it slowed and the sun came out from behind the clouds. Everything felt too bright, too harsh, and Castiel's nerves sparked nervously.

"It started out slow and quiet, I thought it was just another ghost, maybe Joelle, you know she likes to sing in the basement. Then it got louder, and it felt... _dark._ "

"Dark how?" Castiel asked.

"What were they saying?" Dean asked, on top of Castiel's question. They glanced at each other before quickly looking away, back to Norman.

"I don't know, I couldn't make out any of the words. Naomi could though." Norman sighed, looking at Castiel apologetically. "She definitely knew what they were saying and she seemed scared. She left her cereal and went running upstairs, locked herself in her room. She hasn't been out for hours, but I went in and I seen her just sitting there."

"Sitting?"

"In her room," Norman nodded and clarified. "She was just sitting there on the floor, staring off into the distance and listening to the voice."

"Is it still speaking?"

"No, it stopped about an hour after it started but she's still in her room." Castiel started to move towards the house, but Norman reached out and stopped him. Norman's hand was freezing and otherworldly where it landed on Castiel's covered arm, and he jerked backwards away from the ghost. "Don't go in there, Castiel. It was scary."

"Anna's in there. I have to." Castiel chewed his bottom lip, looking back at the house. He knew he had to go in, not only because it was his house and Anna was inside, but because Naomi needed him. Bitch or not, he couldn't leave her in there fighting something she had no idea about.

"What are we going to do, Cas?" Dean asked, hushed and with his back to Norman. He looked as worried as Castiel felt, but his jaw was set and tight, ready for a fight.

"We're not doing anything, go home, Dean." Castiel spun around and started towards the side door, hands tightly in fists. His legs were shaky but he couldn't turn back. Anna and Naomi needed him.

"Hey! No you're not doing this alone. I've got _experience_ if you've forgotten, let me come in. You'll need someone to hold Anna while you smite whatever it is." Dean smiled goofily, lightening the heavy weight in Castiel's stomach slightly.  He thought about it, rolling the idea around as he studied the house.

"Fine," Castiel conceded, Dean fist pumping the air. "Stand behind me though."

"I'm a hunter, Cas. I think I can handle whatever is in your house." Dean scoffed, quickly shutting up at the glare on Cas' face. "Alright, alright lead the way, Captain."

They crept up to the house as if something was going to jump out and eat them, moving through the garden warily. Norman was behind them, sitting in his usual spot rocking back and forth. Whatever it was that had spoken, it had left Norman more anxious than ever before - which worried Castiel immensely.

The air was still and frigid as Castiel removed his mittens and felt the first stings of frostbite. He unlocked the door quickly, the key freezing in his hand, and let Dean in first. The house was eerily quiet inside, with no traces of movement or life at all. The side door opened up to the back of the living room and Castiel tossed his backpack down on the couch, trying to act as casually as possible.

"Too quiet," Dean muttered behind him, tossing off his overcoat and jacket. Castiel nodded, scanning the entire area slowly and carefully, for any sign of something wrong. There was no ectoplasm, no mist, nothing. The house was still and empty like no one had ever lived in it, and the furniture was all for show.

"Where's Anna?" Dean asked, reaching down to his boots. Castiel continued slowly into the house, taking each step slowly and precisely like he might step on a landmine.

"She's in her room on the second floor, right across from Aunt Naomi's." Castiel answered slowly, looking back at Dean. "What the hell is that?" Castiel asked calmly, his nerves already so frayed that the sight of a knife in Dean's hand wasn't nearly as frightening as it should be.

"Hunter, remember?" Dean asked, waving the knife loosely in his own direction.

Castiel rolled his eyes and walked faster towards the stairs. He was careful to scan every new room and doorway they passed, looking for any sign of darkness. The house laid in unnatural silence besides the sound of their breathing and footsteps.

He led the way up the stairs, feeling slightly better with Dean at his back. The stairs creaked with their weight but they got to the first landing without issue. The second floor was dark and Castiel couldn't see anything as they headed up into it. His stomach was in knots, but his feet kept moving steadily. As they reached the second landing he could hear Anna fussing in her room, her cries growing steadily louder as she woke up from presumably her long nap.

"Anna!" Castiel called, the name slipping out before he could stop himself. For the first time, he realized how much Anna was missing out on. If he felt alone, without brothers or parents to fall back on, what must poor toddler Anna feel like? He hurried up the last flight of steps, towards where Anna's crying was growing louder and louder.

Suddenly the crying stopped, abruptly and completely, and Castiel froze. Dean crashed into his back, and Cas felt the knife brush his arm just barely.

At first it seemed like a dream. Hazy and floating in and out, it sounded like the voice of Gabriel speaking to Mary. It sounded far away, it sounded ethereal, it was light embodied.

_"Hey Jude.."_

"Mom?" Dean exclaimed, running up the stairs and shoving Castiel aside.

_"Castiel..."_

"Dean! Wait it's not your Mother!" Castiel dashed up the stairs and got to the landing just fast enough to see Dean standing in front of Anna's open door, looking shocked and horrified, before he was thrown away into the opposite wall. He collapsed into a crumbled heap on the hall carpet and Castiel cried out.

He lunged forward to grab the door edge, his fingernails gripping into the wood tight as the house seemed to spin. The air felt thicker and slower, every movement going backwards and every breathe taking more effort.

"Hello, Castiel. I've been waiting all day for you." The man, who Castiel had never met before, greeted him with a sleazy smile. On his arm, crying softly, was Anna. Behind him, two blue orbs hovered gently bobbing up and down. From them, voices sang and called and cried.

Only one voice was familiar, and as Castiel squinted into the orbs light, it started to form.

"Hello, angel." His Mother greeted softly, her face spreading into a small, tired smile.


	6. six.

"What-who, I..."

"Shh, Castiel. If you keep thinking so hard, you'll break." The man chided mockingly, wagging a finger at him.

"Who are you?" Castiel demanded, looking back and forth between his Mother, the man and the third shape-less orb. He could hear Dean starting to wake up behind him.

"I'm your worst nightmare, hun." The man blinked and suddenly the green eyes were yellow. Not like a cat's but a bright yellow that seemed to writhe inside the iris uncomfortably. Castiel gulped and backed up towards the doorjamb. "Actually I'm everyone's worst nightmare. _Azazel_."

"The demon?" Castiel asked, recognizing the name from church. His knees feel weak and his mind clouded, but Anna keeps him from fainting. She's curled up into herself in the demons arms, staring at Castiel with big watery eyes.

"Yep." The demon pops the 'p' in Yep and bumps Anna up higher in his arms. "Now, kid just move. You don't want to fight this fight."

"Fuck." Castiel spins to look back at where Dean has struggled his way up from the ground. "You." Dean spits out blood, that sprays all over Aunt Naomi's recently cleaned carpet without care.

"Ah, the Winchester boy is awake. Good, hold your boyfriend back before you both become unsightly blemishes on this loving house." Azazel waves a hand at Dean, who growls. Actually growls. Castiel wishes he could travel back in time, to a few days ago when his biggest issue was being called crazy by Aunt Naomi.

"Give me my Mom, you bastard." Dean growls, punching the doorframe hard with the side of his fist. Castiel has never seen his face like this before, those green eyes are filled with hatred and focused solely on Azazel, without breaking. Suddenly it occurs to Castiel, something that he had realized before but not had time to register completely.

The blue orb...it's Dean's Mom.

\----------

"She made a deal, son. I collected. That's how adulthood works."

"You're a monster." Dean said through gritted teeth, his eyes watering.

Castiel can't look at his own Mother, or he might faint, so he stares straight ahead at the other blue orb. Floating lazily up and down, left and right, the orb seems gentle. Cas can almost that aura in a person, and the feeling he gets when he does it delightful. He has to help her, he _has_ to help all of them...but how?

"Yeah, yeah. How is your Daddy by the way? Heard he was off his rocker, looking for a _demon_ , what a nutcase." Azazel sneered, chuckling meanly.

Castiel has to do something. There is only one thing he can do. He reaches out. Into the darkness of Azazel, into the bright white of Anna, into the deep green of Dean...he reaches out for the tendrils of strength coming off their Mothers. He sucks their power and energy into him, and focuses on his desperation. Desperation is all he has left.

"He's going to kill you, he's going to send you back to Hell, where you belong!" Dean seems younger yelling, seems more like a teenager when he's upset. Castiel is lost in the sea of emotions coming off of him. They seem to wash over him and stick, surrounding him like a cloying mask of angst. He feels swollen with the emotions.

"Dean..." The walls are closing in.

The house is shrinking. Castiel feels too big. Too much.  Between his soul and his skin is the Earth, and he feels it expanding to consume him like a supernova.

"DEAN!" Castiel is overcome, and throws his head back in a scream that shatters the windows of his home. He is out of control, inside and out.

The barrier between his soul and his skin collapses.

"Yes."


	7. seven.

_Dean's POV_

When he was a kid, his mom would sing Hey Jude to him at night. She did the same for Sammy too, before she died. Her voice was soft, and her touch was gentle, and she'd lean over his bed with the nightlight giving her a warm halo to kiss him good night.

Then she died. Or at least, he seen her dying.

Azazel put her on the ceiling surrounded by white flames, and ran off with her soul. Her body was untouched when the fire department finally got the house to stop smoking. They said it was impossible, they called it a miracle of God. News reporters came for the first few days, so Dad took Mom and them and ran off. He brought her to a new hospital, where they took care of her for a few days before the FBI found her, and wanted to ask questions.

So they ran again, and ended up with Missouri.

Mom was alive but Sam couldn't see her. They had to start feeding him formula. Dean went to sleep at night in Missouri's guest bedroom without Mom's kisses, without his nightlight, without her gentle hugs.

Losing that light had been the worst feeling on the planet. He'd been sure he'd never hurt like that again.

Seeing Cas like this is a very close second.

The blue eyes that had captivated Dean are black, all across the iris and eyeball, with black goo flowing freely out. He has to move back, as Cas is lifted off the ground by some invisible force.

The windows shatter and Dean has to duck and cover not to be impaled.

On the floor he has an even scarier view of black tendrils coming out of Castiel's skin and face. "Cas!" He shouts, but his voice is carried away with the sudden rampant wind pouring in through the windows and spinning in the room. Even Azazel has backed away, staring warily at Castiel but not leaving. Maybe he's not able to, Dean sure feels tied down.

The gravity in the room has increased so much that Dean can barely get up from the floor. The moment he does though he regrets it. A hand reaches into his chest and pulls, and he collapses. He screams and grips his chest but there's nothing there, this is metaphysical, this is something he can't stop.

Somewhere very far away he can hear someone chanting, and though he knows its Castiel, the voice sounds nothing like his friend. He can't make out the words, he can't make out much of anything.  All he feels is Castiel's hand in his chest, and Azazel at his back, and the world slowly imploding.

Suddenly, it all stops. The hand recedes. Pain lingers in all his veins but its old, it fades further and further away with every millisecond. For all the pain Cas caused, it seems he gives back a thousand times.

When Dean finally gets off the floor, he feels better than ever. He feels renewed, by Castiel's hand.

He finally gets up and is able to see his friend, and gasps. Castiel is changed.

"Cas..." He starts but trails off in awe.

Castiel is transparent as he is opaque. He is everything as he is nothing. Castiel fills the room and empties it. Dean is overcome by his beauty.

His eyes are no longer black, and no longer unsure. They shine out pure white light into the room, washing over Azazel and Dean. It blasts out the orbs, and Dean feels a moment of regret knowing that is his mother but he trusts this light. He trusts Castiel. He trusts this more than he has ever trusted anything.

"Azazel." Castiel's voice comes out booming and strong, washing through the room like a solid wavelength of sound.

"Who-who are you?" Azazel is unnerved, that is obvious enough, as the white light settles upon him, spreading over his vessel. Dean can see the sweat on his upper lip.

"I am the Father." Castiel's eyes are slowly receding down, and when the light fades, only a white expanse is left. Without the blinding light, Dean is able to see that voice is not the only thing that has changed. Castiel's body has expanded unnaturally. His face seems to change before Dean's eyes, and he can't get one single image to stick. Castiel's heads brush the ceiling as his body is elongated and stretched to encompass his power.

Behind his back, curling up where they meet the walls, is a set of impressive wings.

"I am the Light." Castiel takes a step forward, small and solemn. A wave of power moves with him, sending blasts of air at Dean that he has to brace himself against to stay standing.

"I am Allah." Castiel takes another step. Azazel is not just sweating now. His eyes flicker back and forth between normal and yellow nervously.

"I am of Heaven. I am the Seven Days. I am the Before." Castiel takes several steps in this span, and gets within a few feet of Azazel. His expressions, of which Dean can only discern a few, are all solemn and serious. There is no fear in his visage. There is nothing but power to Castiel, and Dean feels it in the atmosphere as much as he feels it in his bones.

"I. Am. Your. God."

 

* * *

 

Power is intoxicating.

Power is ... it is an utter lacking of fear, of doubt.

Castiel says yes, and God absorbs him like he is nothing.

He is nothing, and that is okay.

They are all meaningless under God's light, under the Earth, and he feels the rightness of this moment.

He feels redeemed.

His mouth is moving but the words that come out are not his own. His body is moving but the steps he takes are not his choosing. He can feel Dean more intensely than ever before and he yearns for him, he yearns to touch that pure soul again, he yearns to redeem Dean as God has redeemed him.

He feels his Mother disappear, and he cries. He cries but God either does not judge, or does not notice.

Where she goes, he'll never know. He hopes she doesn't take Dean's mother with her. He feels her presence leave him though, and it's a very stark difference. He feels lighter than he ever has, like she's been weighing him down.

"Azazel, begone." Castiel's hand slices through the air like slicing through water and Azazel pops out of existence as if he had never been there to begin with. Anna safely floats to the floor, and Dean has her in his arms before Castiel can protest.

"It is always sad when one of my children is corrupted beyond repentance." Castiel hears God say with his voice.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asks, hesitantly but with strength. Castiel feels warmth spread through him, whoever or whatever he is right now, at Dean's concern.

"He is within Light."

"I don't know what the hel-heck that means but I want him back. Now. _Please_." Dean demands his return of God, and Castiel is sure that he loves this boy. Fourteen years old, twenty-five, a thousand...Castiel will never not be captivated by Dean Winchester.

"You make demands of God?" Castiel feels more than hears God's words, as they move through him in a celestial wave. He fears for a moment that Dean has upset God, before warmth rushes through his energy and reassures him. "You are a brave, righteous boy, Dean, son of John and Mary."

"Thanks, I guess." Dean hitches Anna up higher in his arms, and though her tears have dried, Dean is obviously unsure how to proceed with her. Castiel can practically see the thought process in Dean's mind. At all costs, no matter what God might do, protect the innocent. Dean looks around the destroyed room as stealthily as possible, but there are no safe spaces. The entire room is covered with glass.

"You are welcome, my son." God doesn't seem like he's ready to leave but Castiel is ready to return. He has no voice, he has no body, he has only his mind.

He begs and pleads for God to let him go, to let him back. He bangs on the inside of his consciousness and begs to be returned.  He needs to protect Anna, yearns to hold Dean, and has to find Aunt Naomi - he needs his body back.

God gives only a very firm no.


	8. eight.

"Where's my Mom?" Dean pleads, as God steps forward to look out the window. His body, Castiel's body, is unnatural and harsh in the light, but Dean sees how holy ever step is. He sees the smooth, procession of movements and of breaths. God is a creature, same as himself, but he is of a different caliber.

"She is fine. I hold her." God slowly turns to look at Dean as he speaks, but turns back to the window once he's said his piece.

"Hold her where? Put her back! Please!" Dean places Anna on the only surface not covered in glass, the changing table in the corner. Then he kneels, for the first time. He has never been to church. He has never prayed, but now he does. He begs vocally, he begs internally, he begs with every fiber of his young being.

"If I told you she was at peace, would you let me go?" God muses, his voice eerie and calm.

Dean feels, distantly, that he's crying and shaking his head. But all he hears is his mother's singing, he can feel her. She's here, she's so close.

Her body has been with him always, but this is the closest he's felt to his Mother since Azazel entered their lives. He can't leave this house without her.

"No...You would not let me go. Selfishness is not a virtue, Dean."

"Please, Father. God. Sammy needs-"

"So you are selfish for your brother? For your family?" God seems to want to debate, as if none of this really matters. Dean supposes, none of it really does. God could level this whole town, this whole planet and barely bat an eyelash. Leaving one measly human family without a Mother must be barely a blip on God's radar.

"Please." Dean bites the word out through gritted teeth, crushing his tongue against the back of his teeth. Dean doesn't know what else to say, doesn't know how to convince God of his importance. God turns once again to the window before heaving a sigh that feels like a hurricane.

"I suppose... God can be merciful." God seemed to reach inside of Castiel, his eerie elongated fingers disappearing into the light mass that used to be Dean's friend's abdomen. Out came, gripped in God's tight fingers, a ball of blue light. _Mom._

Dean expected God to snap his fingers and bring his Mom here. He expected God to let the ball go and it would float on home. Hell he expected God to wave his hands mumbo-jumbo style and his Mom would just be standing there.

Instead God slowly, gently, like he was carrying a bomb, turned and headed out the door. "Hey! Wait, where are you going?" Dean shouted, tucking Anna quickly into a blanket and in his arms. She clung to his shoulders as Dean raced after God, already half-way down the staircase with the orb.

He grabbed his jacket and overcoat, thankful for God's slow steps. Anna's coat was nowhere to be found so Dean just tucked her little body inside his and folded it around her as best he could. She was crying steadily into his neck, and he just prayed that she hadn't seen Castiel transform.

Dean tried to follow as closely behind as possible but whenever he got within ten feet of those massive wings protruding from Cas' back, he'd get shoved back by a powerful force field. He was stuck behind, the freezing cold wind blasting against his skin as God led them further away from the house.

The clouds were spread over the sun so tightly the early afternoon looked like dusk. Milton was dead. Every step God took seemed to wash a blanket of white noise onto the town, and every house seemed more desolate as they passed.

"This town..." God started to say, his booming voice trickling through the wind to Dean. "It crawls with lost souls."

Dean didn't respond, unsure how to maintain small talk with God. God continued without hesitation, probably all too used to talking to himself. "This vessel I wear now, he could see them."

Dean nodded, and clutched Anna tighter, his worry for Cas overwhelming. As much as he longed to be in his Mother's arms, the grotesque manipulation of his friend's body and spirit was horrible to see. He wanted Cas back, and for this whole thing to finally be over.

They passed through Milton, like Moses passed through the Red Sea. Dean couldn't see the ghosts, but he felt them. He felt them disappearing, one by one as God passed - being blessed or condemned, who knows? No one living seemed to be in town anymore, all the doors were shut tight, and the windows were empty of peeping eyes. The school, just down the hill from where God turned left to the woods, was silent and still.

Dean's skin shivered and itched but it wasn't from the cold. He could feel God's power rushing over him with each step and drag of the wings.

God led the way to the forest, disappearing into the trees with confidence. His wings did not curl into his back, but simply cut through the bark like ghosts through walls.

Dean carried Anna over fallen logs and under low hanging branches, holding onto her for strength. His knees felt weak, his mind spun and he could have never imagined how nauseous he would feel in front of the Lord. God's presence seemed to change reality; the trees bent, the air was heavy and thick, Dean's vision blurred and refocused in rapid intervals.

"These trees are old, and withering." God sure liked the sound of his own voice, Dean grumbled to himself, nearly tripping over into a ditch as his vision blurred again.

In the distance, coming closer with each step, was the opening of light Dean had become so familiar with over the months in Milton. God led the way into the snowy meadow, wings brushing the ground and leaving huge cuts through the demon trap Dad had painted onto the snow.

God stepped up straight to the door and then turned to face Dean expectantly. _Figures_ , God can carry souls but he can't throw open doors.

Dean balanced Anna on his forearm and unlocked the door, throwing it open and coming face to face with his Father.

"Dean-"

"Excuse me, John, son of Henry." God pushed past Dad, shoving him aside with raw power. The floor boards creaked as God made his way into the heart of the cabin. "I have your wife."

"What?" John ignored his son entirely, in favor of staring wide-eyed at the monstrosity in his living room. The blue orb in God's hands pulsated wildly.

"She's happy to see you." God murmured, his voice still resonating against the walls like a scream. Dean gently sat Anna down on the couch as God calmly headed towards the bedroom, moving like he'd walked here a thousand times.

"Stay here, Anna. Don't move, okay?" Dean pat her cheek gently, wiping away tears. "You hear me? Don't move." She nodded silently, holding onto his t-shirt with a tiny fist. He pried himself away softly and caught up to his Dad, who was following as closely behind God as possible.

"Dean is that..." John asked, his eyes frozen on God's back where ethereal wings met shoulder blades. Dean nodded and John gulped tightly, his eyes widening even further. In one hand John gripped a knife tightly but the moment Dean clarified, the knife fell to the floor with a clatter.

They all entered the master bedroom slowly, with John and Dean several yards behind God.  Mary Winchester laid on the huge bed alone, an IV drip attached to the crook of her elbow and pillows underneath her head propping her up. Her face was empty and expressionless, and the closer God got the more light shone upon her. The orb in God's hands bounced excitedly and wildly, eager to reunite with it's vessel.

God looked up at Dean, his faces rapidly switching and changing right in front of them. Slowly with graceful, otherworldly precision, the various features calmed and formed Castiel's face. The hooked beak, the roaring gaw, the large eyes, they all disappeared as God slowly returned Castiel's body.

 

* * *

 

Castiel could see again.

In front of him, Dean gaped in awe and worry. Next to him was a much older, tired looking man with tears in his bloodshot eyes, that must have been John Winchester. Castiel wasn't sure why they were looking at him like this, with so much awe and fear.

_"Go on, my son."_

Castiel's ears pricked up absently as the warm voice washed over him. The voice gently prodded him to look down at his hands, where he found the blue orb from earlier before his vision blacked out.

_"Finish it. C a s t i e l ."_

God says his name with the grace and encouragement of a Father, and Castiel knows what to do. He looks up at Dean once more, sees the awe and confusion in those green eyes, and feels sure. With the power of God behind him Castiel reaches into Mary and into the Earth and pulls.

Power, raw power fills his veins but he does not break. He uses it to manipulate her, twisting her soul every way necessary to fit back into her body. God and he tie her in, cleaning out the darkness Azazel's deal and kidnapping had left behind and closing the wound. Her eyes flutter gently but the deed is not yet done.

Castiel gently places his hand on her forehead, reminiscent of his many séances with Norman, and chants. He chants in Enochian, he chants in Latin, he chants in languages that only God knows. He prays for her safe awakening.

He offers himself in return.

 


	9. nine.

_11 years ago_

"How dare you?! You're just going to walk out on your children? Anna's barely a new born!" Castiel grips the banister rails tighter as his parents near the stairs, their fighting growing louder and louder as more of his Daddy's stuff disappears into suitcases.

"I have to, Amelia-"

"Have to?! You have to? You have a responsibility here, Jimmy-"

"James."

"Ugh!" Momma throws her hands up into the air, kicking one of Daddy's suitcases as he bends to place more books inside. The books jump out of the suitcases and splay on the floor, one of them opening up to a pretty picture. Castiel's too young to understand the image but his eyes trace the bright white rings behind the people's heads with eagerness. Daddy prays over those pictures every night.

Momma grabs Daddy's shoulder when he stands up, and Castiel rears back at the look on his Daddy's face.  It's dark and scary, and utterly unlike anything he's ever seen from his parents.

"I. Have. To. Amelia." The words come out stilting and slow, like someone else is saying them through his lips. "God has commanded it." Gabriel and Lucifer creep up behind Cas, flanking him on both sides, and they try to pry him away from the banister.

"Come on, Cassy. Come on, you shouldn't watch this." Lucifer tries soothing Castiel and pulling him away, being gentle but forceful, but Castiel is too upset.

"No! Daddy!" Castiel breaks away from his brothers, little fists pounding on their hands. He runs down the stairs, his little legs stumbling in his haste.

"Castiel!" Jimmy just barely has time to come back to himself, his expression returning to normal, before his upset son crashes into his legs and clings on with all his might. Castiel is crying fully now, clutching his Daddy's leg desperately. He's young, but not young enough not to understand this fight. He doesn't want his Daddy to leave, never!

Jimmy tries to pry Castiel off but the little boy is clinging too hard and writhes around crying. Amelia has started to cry herself, overwhelmed by the situation - even Gabriel and Lucifer are floored and lost. Lucifer's hand finds its way into Gabriel's, and they cling to each other as their Father tries to leave.

"No! Daddy, you can't leave! I won't let you!" Castiel squeals, his little voice climbing higher and higher the more upset he gets. "Daddy!"

"Amelia, please!" Jimmy shouts, motioning towards Castiel, frustration clear on his face. "Get him off." It breaks her heart but Amelia has to pull Castiel off, forcing him to let go and enduring the little punches and kicks he delivers at her betrayal. He sobs on her shoulder, his tears soaking her shirt and her hair. There's nothing to be done for it, they both realize. Jimmy, James, is leaving with or without their consent.

"I'm sorry." He  can't look away from Amelia at first, then his gaze falls to poor Castiel in her arms.  "To all of you, I'm so sorry." Gabriel and Lucifer avoid his gaze angrily when he looks at the stairs, at his sons, and Jimmy nods sadly.

"I'll see you all again, in Heaven. God promised."

"Just go." It takes the force of Castiel's sorrow to harden Amelia. Jimmy sighs and zips his suitcase shut. He wheels it to the door by the handle, and Amelia and the boys watch him go as far as the front hall. Castiel wriggles out of his Mother's arms, and she lets him go. He's not crying any more but he toddles to the front hall after his Daddy, with open arms and a vulnerable heart.

"Daddy!" Castiel whines, pulling at Jimmy's trench coat hem. "Don't go, Daddy." Tiny pink lips pout sadly, and Jimmy sighs again. He goes down on one knee and cups Castiel's small face in his palm.

"We are greater than pain, Castiel. You will do amazing things, my son. You will be _chosen_."

 

* * *

 

_Present_

"Cas! Castiel, wake up! Please!" A voice distantly starts to funnel into Castiel's mind. He can't see who is speaking, and he can't understand the words, but the sound of the voice is soothing. "Dad, get water or something!"

His body aches. He feels like too little peanut butter scraped over too much bread. All of his limbs and joints feel stretched too far at the same time as too compacted.

Light is starting to appear outside his eyelids, and his eyes burn.

The pain of living is too much, he's not sure he can face the world when it hurts this much already.

He opens his eyes anyway.

It takes several long moments of blinking before the colors in front of him become more than an indecipherable mess, and the first thing he recognizes is the bright, warm glow of Dean's green eyes. Emerald and bloodshot from tears, Dean's eyes are the cure-all for Castiel's pain.

"Dean..." His voice cracks up and down in the single word, and his throat burns like he'd gargled sand. His vocal chords feel stretched and torn.

"Shh, shh don't speak. You need water? Here." Dean's hands flutter nervously over Castiel's body, unsure where not to touch. Castiel braces himself up on one elbow, heaving into the position with a groan of pain. Dean holds the straw to his lips and he gets a gulp of water into his dry, sore mouth before he collapses onto his back.

Panic started to run through him as he came back to himself. He had to get Dean's Mom back, he had to get home before Naomi got the call that he skipped school, he-

"You did amazing, Cas. Whatever you did, I don't even know, but...she's back. My Mom's back." Dean's voice shook with awe and happiness, overcome with it. Castiel laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling and trying to remember what he had done.

The last thing he could remember was agreeing to bring Dean's Mom back, apparently he succeeded.

"Cassy!" Out of nowhere, Castiel has a mouthful of blonde hair and is surrounded by the scent of lollipops and maple syrup. _Gabriel_ , Castiel sighs internally, using his last dregs of energy to wrap one tired arm around his brother. His head is lifted slightly and placed in someone's lap, and hands that feel like Lucifer's start running through his hair. He's surrounded and covered with his brothers, hyperaware of every scent and touch, and he feels more safe than he ever has.

"Cas-i-el." Anna's sweet young voice comes straight into his ear, as one of her sticky little hands trace his eyebrows. She pokes straight at his eye but he's too tired to do anything other than smile.

"Where's-" His voice cracks violently and he coughs, throwing off Gabriel.

"Hey, hey, calm down. Relax, don't speak." Lucifer soothes him back to the ground, rubbing circles on his chest to calm the spasms. "Aunt Naomi is fine." Knowing his whole family, even Aunt Naomi, was fine helped him relax, and he laid back onto the floor.

He was asleep before his eyes were fully closed.

 

* * *

 

Hours later, Castiel woke up in a dark room on top of a stiff mattress. A thin blanket was draped over him but he kicked it off immediately, his skin broiling with sweat. The room was bare, except for three duffel bags in the corner and an IV stand next to the bed. He was still in the Winchester's cabin apparently, though the room was empty of people, including Dean.

He needed to see him, he needed to find out exactly what happened. He needed to hold Dean's hand, see those eyes again.

Almost on cue, the door creaked open, Dean's head popping around to peek in. "Hey, Cas." Dean's voice was quiet and soft, like he was visiting Cas in a hospital ward. Cas sat up, propping himself up against the headboard and waving Dean closer to the bed.

"Hello, Dean." Cas smiled, his face crinkling tiredly.

"How you feelin'?" Dean asked, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. He smiled back, his teeth shining in the dark and sending Castiel's heart aflutter. 

"I feel...better. Different." Castiel answered, squinting and tilting his head to the side as he thought over the question. He felt tired, and his body hurt, but his mind was clear. The last few days had felt like an eternally bad day, and he'd taken a nap and woken up blissfully refreshed. Everything seemed different - Dean's eyes weren't the only bright thing anymore. "How is your Mother?"

Dean's smile grew into a grin, and Castiel smiled in response reaching for his hand. Their hands intertwined tightly. Dean squeezed his hand and laughed happily. "She's amazing, she's tired of course but she's here. Thank you, Cas. I didn't really trust God especially when you started chanting-"

"God?" Castiel cut Dean off, growing confused. "What does God have to do with it?"

One of Dean's eyebrows shot up dubiously, and he pat Cas' hand with his other like a child. "Cas, you...how much do you remember?"

"I remember agreeing to help, and then you were telling me we succeeded."  Castiel pulled his hand back, retreating into himself awkwardly. He was obviously missing something huge. "What did I miss?

"Well...let's start from the beginning."

 

* * *

 

"So, God."

Dean and Cas are laid back horizontally across the mattress staring at the ceiling, hands clasped between them. They should probably talk about that at some point, the hand-holding. Right now Cas is still reeling at the fact that God was inside him.

"I can't believe this."

"Yep," Dean says, smiling softly with his head turned to the side. "It was pretty unbelievable from this side too. You had wings, dude. _Wings._ "

"And I carried your Mother's soul?" Castiel laughed for a minute, hysterically, bending at the waist and resting his forehead on Dean's shoulder. "And-and I-" He broke off, the uncontrollable laughter stopping him.

"You called me son!" Dean exclaimed, laughing and smiling into Cas' hair. After a few more minutes of laughter, they finally calmed curled up in each other.

"You know...I would have gotten her back for you, even without God's help." Cas whispered shyly, avoiding Dean's eyes by laying his head on Dean's chest. He fiddled with Dean's flannel over-shirt, watching it lift up and down as he breathed.

"I know you would have. Thank you, Cas. For everything." Dean whispered back, the arm around Cas tightening. Something pressed into Cas' hair at the top of his head, and it felt like Dean's lips.

Castiel pulled back, bracing himself on Dean's chest. Their stomachs pressed together softly as he leaned over Dean. The room was quiet and still, the murmurs of their families out in the main room soft and comforting. Dean was warm and soft, and his hand on Cas' back was steady and reassuring. The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them.

"We're too young to feel like this." Cas whispered, his eyes going back and forth between Dean's and his lips. He'd never wanted anyone like this before, never had a girlfriend or boyfriend or even a crush as intense as this. Kissing had seemed like something other people did, and he hadn't been able to imagine what wanting to kiss someone would be like - no matter how often Gabriel described it in detail. He knew now.

"We're probably too young to meet God too, though." Dean said laughter in his voice, his hand skimming down the back of Cas' shirt to ride up underneath the fabric. His palm was calloused and rough against the sensitive skin of Cas' lower back.  Dean seemed to gravitate towards him, his smile so close to Cas'.

"I guess you're right." Cas grinned, fingers playing with the ginger-ish hair at the nape of Dean's neck.

Dean laughed softly, his lips brushing Cas'. "You'll get to know, Cas...I'm always right."

Dean surged forward, connecting their lips for the first, long overdue time. Castiel's heart felt too big and too small. His lips tingled, his smile ruined the kiss. Dean's hands were warm and new and reassuring. The whole situation was too much, too little. It felt like an explosion.

It felt like a happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are much appreciated :)


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